


You Really Got Me

by susiephalange



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adorable Groot (Marvel), Eventual Fluff, F/M, Matchmaking, Minor Gamora/Peter Quill, POV Female Character, Post-Movie: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 23:45:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13042023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susiephalange/pseuds/susiephalange
Summary: The thing about keeping a relationship on the down-low is that few to no people know about it. For the Guardians of The Galaxy,nothaving the both of you together is almost a crime against nature. Also, Rocket wants nothing of this. Leave him out of it.





	You Really Got Me

**Author's Note:**

> This story came as a request from my Wattpad!

The Guardians of the Galaxy were no strangers to trouble, trouble on alien planets; trouble in general. But on the Outer Rim of known space, stranded on a semi-hostile planet while shady hired dealers were working on refuelling the Milano, you were saddled with the long watch-shift to keep everyone safe on the shift. While Mantis was grabbing sleep, Groot practicing his vocabulary, Gamora cleaning her guns and Drax working out, you and Kraglin were sitting with your weapons, keeping an eye and ear out.

“Do we really need to keep watch?” You had asked Peter, dubious. It wasn’t as hostile a planet where the people would shoot on sight, yet, the captain of the ship was set on it, and set with saddling the job on his adopted brother Kraglin, too. “I mean, one person, sure, but two? It’s overkill.”

Kraglin had agreed with you, but Peter was adamant. “Trust me on this, _________.”

So, you two were left out, sitting with your sword, and Kraglin with his blaster. It was a nice night, and you could see the constellations like what you’ve come to recognise living away from Earth. The twin moons in the horizon are rising over the mountain range, and bathing you and your broadsword in ample moonlight. The forest around the both of you is silent, empty except for its fauna, creatures darting to the places where they would rest their heads for the night, the odd birdcall made before they settled.

“So, Kraglin…” you start, moving your sword in the dirt, looking to your companion, and fellow Guardian of the Galaxy. The moonlight kissed his face sweetly, bathing his features with the silvery light, those green eyes ablaze with potential, “You never said how you became a Ravager.”

He’s silent for a second. The blaster in his hands is held tight, and with a deep breath expelled, the gun is lowered to his side. Kraglin looks you in the eyes, and released another sigh. Two sighs. No wonder he hadn’t told the story like you told your many little stories, this seemed to be a little heavier in its emotional baggage.

“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you…” he says, giving you a little smirk. But you saw straight through it – it was as much as a front as Peter’s need for music to cover the losses in his life. “I was just a kid from Xandar, ten. Xandar wasn’t as nice as it was back then, and there was a raid on my parent’s ship when we got back from a special trip on some planet.” He looks to the ground, where his boots scuff the dirt, digging it to cover the caps of his toes. “It was a Kree ship, and we were shot down. Nova Corps did all they could, but covered it. Said we was dead.”

You frown, not sure if you heard that right. “Wait, we’re talking about same Nova Corps, with Nova Prime, and –,” you stop yourself, raising your brows. “How did you survive?”

Kraglin smiles. “Ravager ship was just leaving the atmosphere. Yondu’s. Saved my life.”

You smile, remembering the late Ravager, and his odd acts of kindness he made over the years. “And you just stayed with him from then on?” you ask, “I mean, you know me, the galivanting rouge, never to stay too long in one place.” You add.

“Yeah, you’re nothing like that.” Kraglin laughs, and clicking his blaster to standby on his side, gives your shoulder a playful whack, and one of his bright smiles. “Had nowhere else to go, _________. Yondu was like a father to me, Peter too. Ravager’s became a family for me.”

It’s silent for a moment between you, and then, you blurt out, “I wasn’t a pilot before this all, not back on Earth.” You say, unable to face the look in Kraglin’s eyes at the admittance. “My dad was a part of the military, and my Mom an astronaut…” Sensing his confusion at the word, you add, “Um, it meant she went to space for a living. Nobody knew she was pregnant, and she had me in space.”

He frowns. “But Terrans don’t have good space stations.” He states.

You nod. “That’s the understatement of the year, right there,” you laugh it off, but it really cuts deep. “My birth father is a man named General Ross. But…I’m just the defect of an affair gone wrong, I’m sure I have half-sisters or something back on Earth.” You shake your head, unable to picture what family you could have.

Kraglin turns toward you. “You didn’t say what happened to your Ma.”

“She was an American astronaut. They’re prized back on Earth, endless media coverage, fame, science journals to boot. You should hear about how much they like Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin…” you remember the names, how your mother would tell you about them before tucking you in at night. “She gave birth to me in space, and when she came back to Earth, they faked her return. Said she was dead, obliterated her name, put the whole scandal to sleep before it was leaked.”

He's silent.

You add, “I was fifteen when I stole a government prototype space jet, and I ran away.” You chuckle. “It was more of a suicide attempt than anything, I was shocked as hell when I met actual aliens.”

The forest is still silent, not a peep from the outside world. Kraglin glances, and puts a hand on yours, his skin cold to touch, yet, the gesture was warm. “You never said…”

You sniffle, only then realising you’d been crying. It wasn’t a good story. It was a terrible, terrible story that only told of your origins, and how you came to be the woman you were today. “I was an alien to them…to my own father. A freak.”

Kraglin smiles, those crooked teeth overshadowed by the endearing gesture. “Looks like you’re in the right place to be with your own kind, then, _________.”

You laugh it off, whispering _pssh_ to him, changing the topic to something else.

Inside the ship, Peter turns to Gamora with a goofy grin upon his face. But the Zen-Whoberis native has nothing of it, and ignoring his antics, leaves him for a stiff drink until it’s her time for the unnecessary watch shift.

* * *

You should have noticed it by now, but it was coming on the eighth time that Gamora had tripped you up, and had you land on Kraglin. All on different occasions, all in different contexts, apparently – she claimed to have not seen you, to not have noticed he was there, that your bones should have been strong enough from all the hits you’d taken already to get over it. But you stomached the acts. But it was the eighth time that Gamora did the deed that made you question if she wasn’t a master warrior herself, but clumsy.

It was after a deed for a Baluurian fleet when you were sitting in your hammock in the brig of the Milano, and tired after the hard day of work fending off bad guys and the works, you just wanted to read a shitty alien romance novel and ignore the world. But when you saw Gamora approaching, you put the paperback down, and extend your sword toward her.

She raises her eyebrows. “_________? Don’t say this is a mutiny.”

You huff. “I know what you’re up to! You’re trying to humiliate me for some kind of bet. Have me fall all over poor Kraglin, make us look stupid.” You hold your sword steady, and coming out from your hammock, you stand, facing your green-skinned teammate. “I’m having none of it.”

From where he sits to the side, playing in a heap of dirt he took from the last planet you all landed on, Groot agrees, “I am _Groot_.”

Rocket tosses a bolt near your head. “Keep it down, will you? I’m trying to make a bomb here.”

You roll your eyes, but do not back down. “Cut it out, or I’ll cut you.”

Gamora crosses her arms, her stance revealing her intentions; unyielding, firm. “Strong words from a strong woman, _________. You will not like what is to come.”

You can see over her shoulder, and entering the brig, Kraglin has something that looks like a mango in his mouth, the juices running down his arm as he bites into the auburn flesh of the fruit. But you also see – almost too late, and in comical slow-motion – Drax bounding up behind the ex-Ravager. In a matter of seconds, Gamora has moved the side, and thrust toward you with a mighty shove from Drax, Kraglin is atop you, his fruit over your shirt, your skin, your _everything_.

“ _Guys_ ,” Rocket complains, “Bomb! I need my focus!”

Groot hums. “I am Groot.”

Rocket throws another bolt. “Nobody cares, buddy!”

But you care that Gamora has succeeded in making the eighth trip effective, and you’re fuming. “Holy hell, Gamora!” you groan, rolling Kraglin from on top of you, the juices of the fruit smeared all over you. “And Drax, _why_?”

Gamora passes him a handful of credits.

* * *

You were on your way to your bunks after a hard shift in the cockpit – hard not because of the flying, no, piloting vessels was kind of your thing (besides sarcastic one-liners and the way you made being awkwardly weird cool), just not putting up with the squabbles with the other Guardians. At least Mantis wasn’t in on the whole argument, as she sat beside you and with a hand on your bare arm, told you all the meanings of your dreams the night prior. But now, you  were desperate to get some shut-eye, and if you could sneak in some time at the communal shower to strip away the day before then, it would be an added bonus.

But there was a Drax-shaped wall between you and the bunks. No, scratch that. It was just Drax.

“Hey there,” you smile at the muscle of team. “What’s up?”

He frowns at the words you chose. “We are currently flying in space, _________. Nothing is up or down without gravity.”

You nod, remembering that Drax wasn’t the greatest at phrases. “No, I mean…ah, how are you?”

He smiles, it’s small, but nonetheless, there is no scowl, no war-like grimace, no deathly resting face, and you take the smile as a good sign he isn’t up to any funny business. “I am fine, thank you. How are you?”

“I’m tired,” you gesture to the bunks behind him, “I was going to sleep off the day.”

He frowns. “You cannot sleep off a day, time is not a contractible illness that fades after rest is acquired.” He pauses, and glancing down the hallway both ways, hands you a crumpled slip of paper. “I am needed elsewhere, you can sleep now.”

As he walks away toward the cockpit, you unfold the gift from Drax. It’s very poorly written, with many grammatical mistakes, but nonetheless, you discern the general meaning from what he has just handed you. You push into the bunk, where you see Kraglin sitting on his bed. He’s pulling a comb over his tuft of hair, toothbrush in mouth, and when you flop onto your bunk, he gives you a strange look.

Spitting into his glass of water, he asks, “Why the long face, _________?”

You scrunch the note in your hand, and toss it to him. “Read it.”

He undoes the paper, and narrowing his eyes, does his best. “Yuor – you got a need to put your face on –,” he raises his eyebrows at it, and scrunches it up, tosses it back to you, “Who gave that to you?”

“Drax.”

“Makes sense.” Kraglin nods, and placing the glass beside his bed, he adds, “I mean, it’s weird, and sounds like something that he’d say. Not that any of this makes sense.”

You nod, “First Peter has us doing menial tasks together.”

Kraglin agrees, “and Gamora makes us fall over on each other!”

“And this shitty note!” You toss it toward the waste paper basket beside your makeshift bookshelf, the paper missing, hitting the rim, falling onto the floor pitifully. “I think we should tell them.”

Kraglin shakes his head, unsure. “I don’t know, _________…last time I told Peter I had a girlfriend, he took her out, and slept with her. Turned out she was a traitor to the Ravagers, but still. He could take you!”

You _pssh_ at those words, laughing, “Take me? Jeez, that sounds like I’m an object!” you stand, and go to where the paper rebounded the bin. “No. I’m in love with you, Krag, and have been for what, three years now? I’m sick of hiding it from the team. I’m sick of being a part of their pranks to make us do something about it.” you toss the paper in the bin, fixing the problem. “Are you with me, or not, Kraglin Obfonteri?”

He nods. “Always, darling.”

* * *

The next day, you approach the cockpit with Kraglin at your side. Everyone’s there – Drax is staring off into space, Gamora interested in the readings on the schematics on the screen before her. Rocket mans a control, as does Peter. Mantis is reading your shitty alien novel, and Groot sits beside her, playing with a toy yoyo you found a month ago, and has the string wrapped around his arms in a way that can’t be comfortable.

You cough, alerting them of your presence.

“_________! Hey!” Peter greets, waving. “What’s up, Kraglin?”

Drax mishears. We are currently flying in space, Peter, nothing is up or down without gravity.”

Peter ignores that, and says something to Gamora you quite can’t catch. Rocket wipes a hand over his face, groaning _very_ loudly. “Will you guys just quit it! Who cares if you think they’re cute together, I think you all look alike, and I think we’re all going to die alone one day!” He growls. “Love is dead!”

Groot whacks him from where he’s seated with the yoyo. “I AM GROOT!”

Mantis speaks up. “Are you talking about _________ and Kraglin?” she asks politely.

Peter nods. “Yeah! Don’t you think –,”

She adds, “They’ve been in love for over one thousand and ninety-four days, and when you are not around, push the beds they sleep in together and kiss in secret.” She says, her antennae bouncing as she talked.

“What?” Gamora gapes.

Peter blinks.

Drax says nothing, playing with the holo-graphics on his seat.

Mantis realises something is off, and says, “You didn’t know?”

You and Kraglin glance between you, and deciding to see what happened after this revelation of the team, watch it out. “We were just coming to say all this,” you say, breaking the silence. “I mean, it’s just a relationship, it’s not like it affects anyone beyond us.”

“You’re with _________?” Peter asks, saying the same fact again as if to want to hear it confirmed from your own lips, even though it had already had been.

Kraglin nods. “Yeah, for nearly three years.” You link hands with one another. “And we’re here to ask everyone to stop punking us. We’re sick of doing bad shifts, and falling on one another.”

You look to Drax. “And if you want, I’ll gladly teach you basic writing skills, big guy.”

“Writing is speaking’s sorry, weak cousin,” Drax tells you, “I only resorted to it for desperate measures.”

Groot comes to you, and carefully, you unwind the yoyo from his arm. “I _am_ Groot.” He thanks you, adds, “ _I am_ Groot!”

You look to the team, “Okay, that was enough social interaction for one day. I’m going to take my boyfriend with me, and we’re going to cuddle, and then I’m going to kiss him in a public space.” You lift your hand that’s holding his, and grin. “Permission to take the day off, Star-Lord?”

He gives you both a thumb up. “Do more than cuddle!”

**Author's Note:**

> Buy me [ko-fi](https://www.ko-fi.com/M4M3P4NJ)?
> 
> If you have any requests, find me on Tumblr at @susiephalange, or [@phalangewrites](https://phalangewrites.tumblr.com/request_conditions) ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


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